Chapter 6: Daddy’s Dirty Little Secret: Chapter 6

After three days of being bedridden, I was starting to feel better. The doctor scolded me—as did my father—for procrastinating for so long in making the appointment. He said I’d been suffering with bronchitis for at least four days before I broke down and called him. He put me on the strongest antibiotics, which lay in Dad’s hand as he hovered over me with a glass of water and a frustrated expression.

“Stop scrolling that phone of yours. You’re going to make your eyes go crossways.” He scowled, though I knew he only lectured because he cared. He had been here for a few days now to care for me while I was holed up in my bed.

“I’d roll my eyes and say ‘thanks Dad,’ except you really are my dad and that would sound too snarky.” I took the medication, thankful that my head was no longer throbbing from the fever. It broke sometime last night, and I was on the mend.

“I’ll stay a few more days. You know … take care of you.” He bustled around picking up my used tissues and tossing them in my trash can. Then he came to collect the water glass and attempted to steal my phone.

“I need this. It’s work.” I had been scrolling social media for a few hours, seeing how the ads for our new software were performing. I wasn’t able to log in to the company servers to check metrics, but the ad looked good at least.

“Hmm …” Dad mumbled. “How’s that going? Is Blackwell treating you well?” He seemed to hover near my dresser, rearranging things and wiping dust away with his fingertips.

“He’s a good boss,” I said, sitting up. “Why?” Dad wasn’t ever very interested in my work life. At times, I felt like he was sad he sold the company to Xander, jealous of its success. He had a decent profit-sharing dispersal every December that allowed him to live comfortably, probably would for the rest of his life, but he seemed bored at times, and lonely.

“Oh, no reason. I just want to make sure you’re doing well, that you’re taken care of. He turned and walked back to me, sitting on the edge of the bed, sitting near my feet. After a few days of his doting and carrying on, I was ready for him to go home, but it seemed like he was comfortable here. He had never moved on after Mom died, and sometimes I felt like he needed to. He was too preoccupied with my life.

“You know, when I sold the company, I had no idea what an amazing job Xander would do with it.” Dad had a faraway look in his eye as he went on about Next Gen and how his dreams for it were coming true.

I, however, zoned out. My thoughts about Next Gen were entirely different than Dad’s. The last conversation I had on company property was with Xander about the night in his limo, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I left his office feeling sick as a dog but flustered. It was like he got off on making me squirm, watching my reaction to his questions. I didn’t feel uncomfortable by it, just aroused and conflicted.

Xander had told me not to talk about it again, not to bring it up. I promised to keep it confidential, so when he asked me if I’d done that, it was easy. Of course, I’d kept my promise, and I would continue to do so. But when he asked if I’d thought about having sex with him again, I also had to be honest. I had. A lot.

“As much as you do for him, you’d think he’d pay you better. I ought to ask him for a raise for you.” Dad patted my leg and I shook my head. It was the last thing I needed—my Dad going to bat for me and trying to talk my boss into giving me a raise. It didn’t matter that they were good friends, probably best friends if adult men could be considered that.

“No, Dad. Xander pays me well. I have more than enough. Besides, when I nail this marketing campaign he’ll see my value. If he believes I need a raise, I trust him to offer one.” Scooting up on the bed, I leaned on my headboard and heard the doorbell ring. “That must be Godwin.”

Dad’s scowl returned. It felt like his conversation was going somewhere in his mind and it had been derailed. He stood, but he grumbled, “You should never have been that close to him when you knew he was sick.” It wasn’t the first rebuke about Godwin I’d gotten from him, but I understood his heart. He hated seeing me suffer, and in his mind, Godwin shared the germs that made me feel the way I’d been feeling.

I locked my phone and plugged it in on my nightstand and listened as Dad greeted my best friend. For a moment, I thought Dad was going to ask about how I enjoyed working with Xander, not for him. There were a few tense moments in the beginning, when Dad caught on that I thought Xander was handsome. He warned me early on that Xander was a player, not to get too close to him, but at that point, there was never any chance something would happen between us.

Now, when Godwin walked into my bedroom carrying his laptop and Dad followed on his heels, not giving me a moment of a breather, I wondered if Dad would freak out if he knew I’d slept with Xander. Godwin didn’t know, but if anyone in this world could read my mind and figure it out, it would be one of the two of them.

“Got the numbers,” Godwin announced, holding his laptop high. “And the boss can’t believe it. He’s so extra, Meals. He actually told the whole team how amazing you are, and he didn’t say your work. He said you.” He plopped onto the foot of my bed as my body flushed, and Dad eyed me. He suspected something, or maybe I was overthinking things.

I had just been thinking of sex with my boss while Dad talked about his fond memories of the company, after all. “Highest praise, huh?” Dad hummed, narrowing his eyes. “I guess that raise will be coming then.” He slid his hands into his pockets and I sighed, avoiding eye contact with him.

“We should work a little. Dad, do you mind?” I glanced at the door, and he scowled.

“Of course not. I’ll just start collecting my things.” His tone was slightly manipulative, but I didn’t respond as he slunk out.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said something was going on with him, but with the launch of our new software looming and the marketing going strong, I didn’t have time to stop and suss it out. He was a grown adult, and if he had a bone to pick, he had to say something. And if I didn’t want to answer, it was my prerogative.